You can see this in the way I was raised. I grew up thinking soda was called "pop." I got teased for pronouncing the word "on" like "awn" instead of "ahn." We grew up on meat and potatoes. And even though I grew up going to the beach every summer and even catching crabs by the pier with chicken necks, we always threw them back.
I know. Try to hide your shock.
I picked my own crab for the very first time when I was 18 years old, at my friend Kyle's graduation party crab feast with this family. His dad showed me how to do it. I only had one, then sipped my soda (yup, I adapted...I'd learned the local dialect by then, in spite of speaking mid-western at home) and munched on some chips. I liked the crab, but it just took a little getting used to.
Ten years later, I'm a crab convert. I like them a lot, although I probably prefer shrimp. I like Old Bay, even though I don't put it on my fries like a good Marylander. (My high school even had Old Bay in the cafeteria with the condiments every day!) And I sure do love a good crab feast, for the food and friends, even it pulling apart a small shelled creature to pick it's bones makes me feel a little like a raccoon.
My family has started a tradition of doing a crab dinner at the beach one time each summer. We have our favorite spot and we pick a night and enjoy. The girls loved looking at some shells in some baskets.
|Mom and Dad.|
|Me and mine.|
Small fact: Humidity makes the nerve damage in my right cheek worse. I wonder why?
She liked looking at their faces. Carefully.
But eat them? Not a fat. chance.
She may be a Marylander, born and bred, but it's meat and potatoes all the way for my little American girl, the granddaughter of mid-Westerners and the great-granddaughter of an Englishman on one side and an Irishman on the other.
Maybe next year, Sweet Pea.